Dogtags
by HuntedRanger
Summary: An undercover recon mission at a Nazi base goes horribly wrong, an unbelievable sacrifice is made, and the two soldiers who thought they would always go home have to face the fact that they may be too lost to ever be found again... Steve and Bucky Friendship fic, no Slash.
1. Chapter 1

"Let me get this straight." Bucky drawled. "You want us to saunter into the biggest Nazi base we know of, 20 miles behind enemy lines, isolate the secret Hydra faction hidden from the Krauts inside it, extract both the Nazi plans for attack and the Hydra's weapon designs, _and_ get out without getting caught, in 74 hours?"

"Not only that," General yawled, his lined face grim with exasperation, "I also expect you to get out alive."

"Just checking." Bucky said, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head to meet Steve's eyes. "The plan?"

Steve's grin was almost devious. "You're probably not going to like it."

* * *

"What the bloody hell, Steve!?"

Steve eyed the scattered bullets, knives and gun implements that had scattered from Bucky's cot upon the event of that personage leaping up in consternation.

"What do you think?" he asked, holding his arms out slightly and stepping back.

Bucky looked him up and down. "You look like one of those beaten up Poles I saw in the Hydra factory. Heck, you look like me when I got out of that place. Is _this_ your plan? Because you're right, I don't even know what it means, but I don't like it. Tell me it's not permanent."

Steve was in worn, torn, grease-stained civvies, a thread-bare coat shrugged over his shoulders and flat, broken-in work boots on his feet. His skin was at least 3 tones darker, stubble covered his cheeks, and under his dirty flat cap his disheveled hair was now a definite dark brown. There were distinct bruises on his face and his hands were marred with stains and cuts.

"I'm going in. There are plenty of forced workers in the base. I can access the plans fairly easy that way."

"Steve Rogers, you plan on marching into the enemy's playground trussed up in some dirty clothes and dye, with the Captain's wanted poster plastered on every wall from here to Berlin, and you expect to NOT get recognized? This plan was obviously your idea."

"In my defense, the Captain wears a mask. I won't be. Improves my chances actually, if you think about it."

"Is that so? Then, why the heck are you wearing these?" Bucky snapped, his fingers hooking under Steve's collar and yanking free his dog-tags, which he flapped under Steve's nose. "With your freaking I.D. number and _NAME_ stamped on them? For crying out loud, you think no one over there doesn't already know these?"

"I can't leave them behind, Buck." Steve said, sliding them back into place. "You know why."

Buck groaned, his face in his hand. "No, you can't. Where did you get done up? I had better go get ready."

"What?"

"You didn't think I was gonna let you march your sorry hide into certain death by yourself, did you?"

Steve grinned impulsively. "Not really."

Bucky shot him a glare as he shrugged on his coat. "Good." he snapped, and kicked open the tent flap. He ducked out, and then a second later stuck his head back in. "What does Peggy think of this scatter-brained scheme?"

Steve blushed as red as he possibly could under the dye. "She doesn't have to know until it's over."

Bucky barked a laugh.

"What?" Steve asked.

"I'm going to enjoy THAT conversation." He chuckled, ducking out again.

* * *

"How long till the drop off?" Steve murmured.

Gabe twisted several nobs on his machine and marked a place on his map with his pencil. "You've got three minutes."

Steve nodded and moved back to the corner, where Bucky was swaying back and forth to the movement of the train. The blue eyes, the only thing recognizable in the unfamiliar face, glinted with pre-mission energy and cool, experienced calm.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be." Buck said, double checking the belt under his shirt that concealed a revolver, an all-purpose tool, a Morse code transponder and a high-frequency radio. Steve could feel the awkward bump of his own tool belt under his clothes. Bucky buttoned his ragged blue coat up again and looked up, smirking at Steve.

His skin was lighter than usual, his hair dyed a light brown and cut short. His stubble, which a week ago had threatened to become an actual beard, was now clipped and thinned until it was ragged and uneven, giving him a look that seemed several year younger than he actually was. His clothes, like Steve's, were dirty, mended, and three sizes too big, increasing the look of an adolescent shoved into a man's outfit. Steve couldn't help grinning at the sight.

Buck caught him at it and kicked his shin. "If you do that in front of a Hydra, he'll be onto us both like a kraut on Borscht."

"1 minute!" Gabe called out. Jim was already pulling open the car door a few feet, just wide enough for a full grown man to squeeze out. Steve and Bucky exchanged a look.

Bucky sighed and slid his sniper rifle from his shoulder. "Wish I could bring Ethy along. You take good care of her, ya hear me, Dum?"

Dum nodded and accepted the rifle as carefully as if she had been a newborn baby.

Bucky moved to stand behind Steve and shrugged his shoulders awkwardly.

"I'm gonna miss her." He muttered. _It felt wrong to go into battle without his weapon. Suicidal, almost._

Steve pulled his own gaze from where his shield lay quietly in the corner. "We'll be back before you know It." he said.

"Go!" Gabe shouted.

One final glance and the two men leapt out of the train into the snowy white of a plunging hillside.

"This was not how this was supposed to go." Bucky snarled, his back slamming into the wall besides Steve's.

"What do you mean?" Steve panted, casting a wary glance around the corner.

"We were supposed to run for our lives _after_ we found the plans, not before we even figured out where they were!" Bucky huffed.

"I guess today's gonna be a fun day." Steve muttered, before turning around. "Give me a boost."

"Where?" Bucky asked.

"Ceiling panel. That one's loose."

Bucky grunted in annoyance and boosted Steve into the ceiling. Steve's boots scrabbled for purchase in the wall as he hauled himself up a pipe and swung onto a support beam. Sudden shouts in German caught Bucky's attention and he flattened himself against the wall. Heavy footfalls were pounding down the corridor behind the door to his right.

"'Fun day', by golly." Bucky growled, shrugging the rifle he had taken from the first set of guards behind his shoulder and leaping up for Steve's outstretched hand.

* * *

"They are undeniably in the building, Herr Sendler."

Bucky and Steve's eyes met quietly in the dim dark.

"I want them here, before me, alive in the next hour!"

"Sir, they have already resisted strenuously. Our casualties are at least 20, and the prisoners are in riot. Despite our measures, at least 50 have escaped into the surrounding hillside."

"Never mind the prisoners. Either the cold or our planes will have destroyed them by nightfall. I want the two Americans alive. I have it on good authority that that they are members of the Howling Commando squad, and that one may be Captain America."

Steve winced and Bucky raised his eyebrow. _Already? That was quick._

"Would not Herr Hitler be grateful then if we killed them?"

"Members of the Squad know much of the Allies' information. Their precious Captain is an icon to their people. He would be a valuable bargaining piece."

Bucky's grip on the metal pipes turned white.

"Procure for me the Captain in the next hour."

"The other, sir?"

"Put him with the prisoners. We will extract what information we can and, disperse with him accordingly."

Steve's eyes sparked like electric wires.

Bucky caught his gaze in the dim light and carefully, quietly pointed down. Steve followed his finger and noticed the double locked safe that stood behind the general's desk. The plans were most likely going to be hidden there. He nodded to show he understood. His fingers flicked up in the soldier's sign language they had taught each other.

 _Too dangerous here. Let's move to safety._

Bucky nodded, and they continued their careful climb through the duct, pipes and beams of the Nazi base.

* * *

"Buck…" Steve groaned, dirty snow smearing his face. "Go…get out of here…"

"No. Not without you." Bucky grunted huskily. Gunfire cracked closer. He ducked instinctively as a bullet chipped sparks from the wall. Keeping his head down, he flung himself against the wall, listened, then leapt up and fired three silencing shots. Ducking down again, he turned back to Steve.

"Come on, pal. You're gonna be fine." he leaned closer, his fingers finding the welling of blood on Steve's head from where the falling rubble from the grenade had hit him. Blue eyes glittered dazedly up at him. _He can't go anywhere right now._

Bucky made his decision.

"Not without you." he murmured again, gripping Steve's shoulder as he fumbled with the collar of Steve's jacket.

"What…?" Steve murmured confusedly.

"Good thing we both look nothing like those blasted newsreels." Bucky grumbled as he drew his own dog tags from under his shirt. They tangled with his scapular, but he got them free.

He weighed them in his hand a second, looking at the scraped dirt and sweat stained, fire scorched metal bars. He leaned forward and gripped Steve's, lying exposed at his throat. In one swift move he had slid Steve's free and had deposited his own in their place. Quickly he tucked them out of sight, then hung Steve's around his neck, letting them hang free, their muted glint just enough to attract attention.

"Stay alive, pal." He murmured, gripping his gun with one hand and Steve's shoulder with the other. "Get free and get to the others."

"Bucky, no!" Steve's eyes widened he began to push himself up on one elbow, face twisted in pain.

Bucky leapt to his feet. They had maybe a minute before they were overrun. His rifle _click-chacked_ in preparation. He looked back and met Steve's eyes as Steve barely managed to get to his knees before collapsing against the side of the wall. His grim face softened.

"It's gonna be alright, pal." He whispered.

German shouts rang out behind him and with a last, lopsided smile, he brought the gun to his shoulder and started firing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: i'm updating this supid chapter again because darn it, technology is annoying. thanks to mellia Bee for helping me figure out section breaks!**

 **Warning for extreme peril required desparate efforts to stay alive.**

The gun was pressed against the back of his spinning head. Steve blinked, breathing hard through his nose. His hands over his head, bracing himself against the wall as someone searched his clothes. To his left, Bucky was grunting angrily as he underwent the same rough treatment. Their weapons and supplies were long gone.

The world swam. Steve staggered a little, gripping the rough stones of the wall to keep himself from falling. Bucky's hand appeared on his shoulder before a smack from a rifle pushed it away. Steve blinked.

 _Of all the things the serum could have trouble fixing, it had to be a concussion._ He thought dizzily.

"Turn around!" the officer ordered. They were roughly grabbed and spun around. Blinding fireworks went off in Steve's head.

"Names." The captain growled.

"Leopold Sterne und Johann –"Bucky began, before the captain lashed out, smacking Bucky's face back with a bolt-like punch.

Bucky tilted his head slowly back into place, a defiant smirk curving his bloody mouth. "One or two guns fewer at my back and I could give you better than that." His eyes sparkled dangerously.

The captain's eyes glinted at the taunt, but before Steve could start to worry, something else caught the captain's gaze. He reached out, his black-gloved fingers curling around the dog tags that glimmered on Bucky's chest.

Steve lurched forward, pushing the man's hand down.

"Stop moving!" a guard shouted.

"Sir, they are not his!" Steve panted, understanding of Bucky's incomprehensible actions finally dawning.

"Don't be a fool, Barnes!" Bucky snapped angrily, before cutting himself off as though he had revealed something wrong.

Throughout it all, the captain had not moved, his eyes were glimmering now, and he smiled at Bucky proud face in a way that made Steve feel sick. He lurched forward again, only to find his arms pinned by three large guards.

"It's not him." he shouted. "Bucky, tell them!"

The major flipped the dull metal disks up and held them flat in his palm, quietly scanning the stamped letters and numbers. "Herr Rogers," he said, his grey eyes quietly pleased as they met Bucky's sparking blue ones. "It is a pleasure to finally meet the famous Captain America in person." His voice was laced with a thick, smooth accent.

"The pleasure is entirely yours, I assure you." Bucky snarled.

"Buck, stop this!" Steve panted. The captain shot him an annoyed glance.

"Remove him." he ordered curtly, turning back to Bucky. "Put him with the others. If you would be so good as to attend me, Herr Rodgers, we must discuss a few things."

Bucky smiled grimly. The captain turned away and Bucky allowed his eyes to search for Steve, who was already being pulled away.

 _Why did you do this?_ Steve's glance asked, horrified.

 _You know why._ Buck's set jaw and quiet glance to the ground said, before the guards twisted his arms back. He struggled reflexively as strong ropes were bound around his wrists. And, with a barked curse and a backhanded blow to his skull, he was led away.

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Bucky shifted in the chair, trying to distract himself from the surprising amount of pain his body was in. Apparently, the position of "Very Important Prisoner" entailed some vengeful beating from soldiers who had not been happy with his attempts to escape.

Behind his back, he could hear the sudden rise of conversation outside the cell door. He went still, tilting his head awkwardly over his shoulder to get a better hearing.

"- I insist on transporting him at once, Herr Sendler. The Fuhrer is most eager to meet him."

"But surely it would be better to extract what information would suit our purposes here at once. Our soldiers, dear sir, must be kept alive. To send a valuable source of information to Berlin, were it could take weeks to come back to us, could cripple our defenses here, do you not think?"

"My orders are clear. He leaves within the hour, as soon as the train arrives. The other prisoner will provide us plenty of information. You may interrogate him as soon as you choose."

"Thank you, but it seems to me that a lackey of Captain America would know far less than Captain America himself. May I, perhaps, ask him a few questions myself, prior to his extraction?"

"Very well, you may." The door bolt rattled and the door opened. Bucky looked forward quickly and dropped his head to his chest, faking exhaustion. (It wasn't all _that_ faked) several heavy footfalls approached from behind and he glanced up wearily.

Every nerve in his body suddenly yanked awake with the screaming gut instinct of danger.

Dr. Zola was skittering beside the wall, a sheaf of paper clutched nervously in his fat hands. And behind him, tall, razor-straight, burning-eyed, hideous red skull concealed under a fake mask-

Johann Schmidt.

 _Oh, hell._

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Steve's head pounded like a train wreck as he bent over in the corner of the prisoner's barracks, his body concealing the small radio in his hands. It was a miracle that this was the one item the guards had over looked. He sent the frequency over and over, listening for any answer, warily looking for any sign that he was observed.

"Jay, its Eagle. Come in, over."

The crackle of static.

"Jay, its Eagle. Answer if you can hear me, over."

The crackle was interrupted by a garbled noise that sounded vaguely human. Steve adjusted the settings one more time and pressed the radio into his cheek. "Jay, is that you?"

"Brooklyn, Washington, Jackson."

"Fort Worth, Gettysburg, Chamberlain." The code for all clear.

"Position?"

"Alive, but imprisoned. Hawk is separated, location unknown." Steve bit his lip, chewing back his worry. "Situation requires back-up."

"Not a problem. What do you need?"

Steve resituated his aching ribs and breathed a quiet prayer. _I really, really hope this works._

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 _I think this just went from bad to worse._

Bucky looked into the rage-filled eyes of Schmidt and internally winced. "This can't be good news for you." he joked lightly. _Understatement of the millennium._

"You were with him." Schmidt snarled. "On the bridge at the factory."

 _Shit. I hoped he would forget that._

Schmidt leaned forward, his terrifyingly strong hand gripping Bucky's collar and yanking him forward. His eyes burned so fiercely that the mask was _almost_ smoking.

 _If that thing melts off his face, I just might laugh._ The snarkiest part of Bucky's brain whispered. _Which would not be conducive to my general state of health._ Shouted the part that was currently keeping him alive.

"Where is Captain Rogers?" Schmidt asked, almost politely.

"Not hiding under a mask." The snarky part actually answered out loud. The staying-alive-part winced. All of him regretted it when Schmidt's backhand reopened to cuts on his face. But only slightly.

"If your Captain America was as honorable as he purports himself to be, he wouldn't have you masquerading as him." He grabbed the dog tags that hung at Bucky's throat and looked at them contemptuously. "Then you wouldn't be in this position, would you?"

"You don't know a damn thing about Americans, do you?" Bucky asked, spitting out blood.

"Then let's see if this will help clarify matters for me." Schmidt turned to Dr. Zola, who was peering at Bucky closely through his spectacles like a large-eyed insect. "This man was one of your more successful tests, was he not, Doctor?"

Bucky's stomach clenched. _Not the lab. Never again._

"Yes. He was." Zola adjusted his satchel and rubbed his fat fingers eagerly along the strap. "With your permission, I would be eager to recommence them."

"I think that would be a good plan." Schmidt smiled. "I shall inform Herr Sendler that the prisoner will attend us. I'm sure Captain America would be delighted to turn himself in when he hears that one of his Commandos is in Dr. Zola's possession."

 _Not Steve. They are not going to get Steve through me. I'll die first._

"Herr Schmidt, I protest. You know that my work is purely scientific."

"That I do, good Doctor, now if you would-"

A sudden far off explosion rocked the room, dust scattering from the tiles. Dr. Zola fell against the wall, his pens and papers scattering around him. Schmidt rocked back on his heels and looked up, glaring as though his gaze could pierce the concrete walls and reveal the source. A second explosion followed, then a third, and the vicious rat-tat-tat of bullets followed.

"This base has been compromised, Dr.. Let us evacuate quickly."

"What of the prisoner?" Zola asked, his beady eyes turning on Bucky from behind their wire spectacles.

"Radio the guards to come help you extract him."

Zola fumbled with a bulky hand-held radio in his pocket, his smile sharp and hungry as he met Bucky's eyes.

"Do not be concerned, Sergeant Barnes. My lab has been expanded from the one at Azzano. The processes will be far swifter than last time."

"I look forward to seeing the results. Now, hurry to extricate yourself. I shall meet you in two days' time." Schmidt said as he strode stiffly out of the room. Dr. Zola barked commands into the radio and began to tidy up the papers scattered around the room. Bucky could see a design on one by his foot that looked suspiciously like a torpedo. His eyes narrowed. Zola, looked up at the ceiling then down at Bucky. Bucky glared at him, while his fingers stretched towards the button at his shirt cuff. The one that Stark had hidden a slight razor edge underneath the cloth.

"You seem unreasonably calm, Sergeant Barnes." Zola remarked suspiciously.

"Maybe I'm a soldier who is used to the thought of dying by a mortar shell." Bucky drawled. The button was firmly between his left thumb and index finger and he began to draw it across the nearest rope on his wrist.

"It always puzzles me, how you idiots can be so desirous of destroying yourself. Do you think nothing of your own lives?"

"We actually have something worth dying for." Bucky snapped. "We don't live our lives under rocks like insects." The button slipped in his fingers and gashed his skin. Blood made the ropes slippery. He winced. _I really hope that cut is not as bad as it feels._

"I at least will not be blasted to nothingness. You, on the other hand, do not even seem to be concerned is anyone knows which body is yours."

"We do care." Bucky snapped. "We have families. We are not forgotten. That's why we wear these tags." He felt familiar metal disks at his throat. One rope at his right wrist parted. He wrenched his wrists slightly at the give. "We know we are probably going to die. These remind us of that. But they also remind us that someone will find us and bring us home, even if we are so burned or torn that our own mother wouldn't recognize us. We are still going home, one way or another."

"Well, you are in good hands then, Sergeant Barnes." Zola said, looking up in relief as two guards entered the room. "We may not be leaving you in one piece, but we are taking you home." He snapped an order at the guard and slid the last folder into his bag. "Let us go."

The guard step forward and grabbed Bucky's arms.

The last rope parted.

"Not today." Bucky snapped, launching himself forward.

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Steve decked the guard and moved into the doorway. Gabe's honest smile appeared as the soldier reached out and gave him a quick clap on the shoulder.

"Good to see you alive! How does it look?"

Steve looked out over the scattered dead guards, the smoking barracks, and the race of prisoners towards the American lorries. Scattered pockmarks of guards were still putting up a sharp defense.

"Like I couldn't have done it without you, but there is still work to do."

"You're telling me." Dum-Dum grumbled, his bowler hat caved in and smoking. "Here, brought you a present." He pulled the round shield off his back and thrust it into Steve's hands. Steve slid it comfortably onto his arm, the familiar feeling settling him firmly into soldier mode.

"Have you located Bucky yet?"

"We haven't seen Barnes anywhere, and we've swiped every building we could, except the main admin."

"He's probably in there then, I'll go get him. You all-"

A sudden burst of flame knocked them back onto the ground. Steve lurched up, searching for the origin-

The admin building, half of it in smoldering piles of brick, the other half smoking.

"Gabe, radio them to not hit the building again."

"That's gonna be a little tough!" Gabe snapped, holding up his smoking radio, which had a bullet hole in the back of it."

Steve looked at it, then spun around. "I'm going in."

"Take this!" Gabe yanked a rifle off his back, a familiar one – Bucky's sniper- and handed it to Steve. Struggling hope burned in his eyes. "Get it to Buck. He'll want it."

Steve shouldered the gun, nodding. _Yes, he will._

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Bucky picked himself off the ground, his head ringing. Hot air burned his face and he could barely see through the haze of smoke and dust. The walls were still standing, for a wonder, but he could hear the familiar creak of tumbling rubble just beyond them. He didn't have time.

The two guards were just beyond him, lying where his solid punches had laid them out seconds before the explosion. Zola was in the corner, scrambling up, his spectacles broken.

Bucky lurched forward, snatching up the satchel of papers were it lay on the floor. _These have got to be important._ He looked down on Zola, considering whether to deck him out and leave him to the flames.

 _Not right. Even if he is like that, it's not right._

A sudden thunder of footsteps in the hall startled him. He leapt to the door and peered out. Guards were coming down the hall.

"In here! Help me! He's getting away!" Zola sudden shrill voice burst out and Bucky gritted his teeth, whirling around. _Blast the little worm!_

Another bomb shook the whole building. Bucky tumbled to the ground, covering his head as rubble rained down around him, a large block smacking his left shoulder and sending screaming pain through his whole arm. He grunted and pulled himself up, cradling his arm against his side.

A hole in the upper part of the wall, flames shining through. Guards behind him, gathering in the door.

 _No choice._

He took a running leap, hauled himself into the breach, bullets snapping at his heels. Something burned his calf, a singeing pain that he prayed hadn't hit anything important. He rolled to the side through the flames, the hair on his exposed arms burning. He landed and pulled himself up, coughing and peering through the smoke for an escape. _If I just leapt from the frying pan into the fire, I'm a bigger idiot that Steve jumping into a bar fight with a football team._

His aching shoulder hit something that chinked like glass. Using the satchel for a guard, he smashed his elbow into it once, twice, a crash, swiped the shards from the lower pane, leaned out, smelled fresh air, saw a drop, 15, no, 20 feet, into smoldering rubble, felt the fire suddenly surge behind him at the influx of oxygen…

Heard the whistle of an incoming shell.

Hissed a prayer.

Closed his eyes and jumped.

 **AUTHORS NOTE: PLEASE DONT KILL ME THERE IS ONE MORE CHAPTER COMING! believe me, if i didn't love my little bucky and steve babes so much i would never put them into so much danger. and since i love them, i would never KILL them, right?**

 **right?**

 **um...i'm gonna go hide in my bunker and leave my muse here for you to torment...its her fault anyway. ..bye...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Hello! Here it is! warning for some battlefield imagery.**

 **i own a computer and an imagination. that's it.**

...

Steve watched in horror as the final shell smashed the remaining stories of the building to smithereens.

 _Please, God, tell me he wasn't in there. Anything but being in there._

The rubble underneath was so hot it was burning his shoes but Steve leapt forward anyway, scrambling over twisted metal and smoking bricks, choking on fumes, coughing out Bucky's name as loudly as he could. There were bodies under the rubble and his stomach twisted with fear every time he had to lean forward and look at one, but nothing was recognizable. He reduced his search to just looking for dog tags. If, God provide, they had not taken the dog tags, he could find Bucky.

 _Oh God please, don't let him be dead. But if he is, let me find him. Please let me find him. Don't let them have taken the dog-tags._

He tripped and fell forward, gashing his arms on shards of hot metal. Pushing himself to his knees, has forced his smoke-sore throat to bellow out Bucky's name one more time, praying that somehow, somewhere, he could find him.

There was another body just a few yards away, half buried in broken bricks, a scorched leather protecting its head. Steve reached forward and pulled the leather away, wincing as the bloody, singed light-brown hair flopped forward onto the blackened, burned face.

Burned metal disks hung at his throat. Steve reached forward and held them up, burning his fingers on their hot metal as he smudged away the dirt, praying that no it wasn't and yes it was…

His name was there.

"Bucky!" he bellowed, lurching forward and shoving away the heavy rubble as fast as he could, coughing and hacking and frightened because Bucky was completely, unnaturally still and he couldn't be still, not with how energetic he always was and vibrant and alive, heck he couldn't even sleep without rolling over and laughing at some dream every hour and he couldn't be dead because no, no, _no._ Bucky Barnes dead was an impossibility.

"Come on Buck, get up." He growled, clearing the last bit of rubble away and reaching forward to feel for a pulse on the dust covered, smoke stained, blood and ash crusted skin. Between the tattered disguise, the swollen bruises from obvious beatings, and the general destruction of having a building blown up over his head, Bucky was almost completely and totally recognizable, which was wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

 _Please, Bucky, don't._

….

There was a lot of smoke, a lot of heat, a lot of pain. It made the prospect of waking up a really bad idea. But, blast it, Steve was there as usual, pestering him to get up and go on some dumb shenanigan that Bucky would have to save his sorry skin from as usual and why couldn't the kid just sit down and enjoy a freaking drink or something…Bucky groaned and opened his eyes.

Then realized, as usual, that Steve was right. He was lying on a pile of rubble and Steve was there and, goldarnit, his head was _still_ bleeding what on earth had he gotton himself into when Bucky wasn't there?

"What did you do to yourself?" Bucky tried to say, before realized that talking was going to be an extremely painful process, so what he actually said came out as "What did you –AH!"

"You're alive!" Steve groaned in relief.

"Yeah, I noticed! What the…oh, for the love of… _OW_!" he rolled over extremely slowly while loudly snapping a whole stream of curses in several different languages and ended up on his back looking up at the billowing clouds of smoke. "This is not pleasant."

"What on earth happened to you?" Steve asked.

"I think I got a freaking building dropped on my head." Bucky groaned, pushing his hair out of his eyes and holding his pounding temples. "What happened to you? Are you alright?"

"Let's talk about me when you don't look like you've been blown up. Can you walk?"

"I…don't...know?" Bucky questioned. "Give me a hand and we'll find out. No! Wait! OWWW! Other hand!" Steve dropped his left arm and timidly reached for his right.

Turns out, he could stand up and stagger a few steps, but only with Steve giving him a shoulder and steadying him over the rubble. There was a definite bullet hole in his leg, just below the knee and Steve had to tie it up tightly in a makeshift bandage before they could make any progress.

Steve gave him back his gun before they got started. "I thought you'd want this." he said, before handing him Ethy.

"You're damn right." Bucky said, taking her in his hand and balancing on one leg while he chambered a bullet. The ache that put through his arm didn't help much but he wasn't about to put her down. "If I can put this through Schmidt's head I'll feel a little better."

"Schmidt was here?" Steve asked, drawing Bucky's arm over his shoulder and helping him to navigate his way out of the rubble pile.

"Him and Zola. We have a lot to talk about." Bucky tapped the satchel which he had hung on his good shoulder. "This was Zola's. He was holding it pretty close. Hopefully it has some good info in it."

"Are they in there?" Steve asked, as they lurched off the final boulder and looked back at the remains of the building.

"Schmidt left. Zola might be, the squished little bug." Bucky growled a colorful curse under his breath in French and ignored Steve's scolding look.

"Let's get back to the others." Steve said, turning them both towards the lorries.

A sudden crack of gunfire. A bullet slid by them, scratching a shallow gash along Steve's shoulder. His shield lurched up, deflecting two more bullets. Bucky snapped the rifle up over the edge of the shield, aimed and fired in two seconds. The German sniper sitting on the wall 50 yards away dropped into a pile of snow.

"Let's get out of here, before we end up anymore dead than we already are."

….

"It puzzles me how you men can either go out and blow up entire factories without so much as a scratch, but one little recon mission leaves you laid up for three weeks."

Bucky fully enjoyed the abashed look on Steve's face as Peggy glared up at him. The bandage was only just coming off of Steve's head and there was a new scar there to join all the others. Even though Bucky himself was covered in more bandages than anyone else, had one arm in a sling and was still leaning on a crutch, he knew that Peggy was going to make Steve squirm for this particular incident more than anyone else for a very long time.

"At least the plans in Zola's files turned out to be fairly important. And we can all thank Dum-Dum for digging the safe out of the rubble."

"Luckily for you, they are critically important. Otherwise you would be in even more trouble with her than you already are. " Phillips said, his grim face slightly amused. It was more than hilarious how sheep-faced the American super soldier could look in front of the small English woman.

"The fact that copies of the Nazi's attack plans were hidden alongside the Hydra's designs means that Hydra is working to take down the Nazi's as well." Steve said, trying to deflect attention from himself. "Now that we know the positions, it will be easier to take them down."

"So since their fighting each other, we just pick them off together." Bucky said, coming to Steve's support.

"Yes. I'm putting together a plan for this base here, and this one in Italy. If we take them out we will have a straight shot at Berlin. Also, Gabe's been analyzing the designs and he had found three or four weak points in their design that will make them easier to take down on the field, even those super-tanks."

"Good plan. You should implement that. That way there will no more of dropping buildings on each other's heads." Peggy stated, completely straight faced.

Bucky laughed so hard his cracked ribs rendered him breathless.

...

 **Aaaaand there ya go! arnt i wonderful for giving you a happy ending? THIS time, at any rate...**

 **thus is completed my first multi-chapter fic. a small accomplishment, but hey, i get to be proud.**

 **so, my next big steve and bucky friendship project is big, very big, and wont be anywhere near publishable for the next three weeks at least. but then, when it is done, you will have regular updates of chapters for it for at least 6 weeks.**

 **until then, i have a couple other ideas for my boys. vote on which one you want to see, and i'll work on turning it out!**

 **1) Bucky and Nat Fluff ( cause i'm a sucker for that ship.)**

 **2) Avenger's Christmas ( Cause i can't get the image of Stark in a Santa hat spiking the eggnog out of my head and Thor honestly believing that he was supposed to hang mistletoe EVERYWHERE)**

 **3) Steve tries to buy a Christmas Present for Peggy, and fails miserably, whereby the entire Howling Commando Corps take it upon themselves to take Steve out shopping for the perfect gift.**

 **let me know! Blessed 4th week of Advent everybody!**


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